


Variantale: Snowfall, Chapter 1

by TychoAzrephet



Series: Variantale [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Confrontations, Descent into Madness, Flashbacks, Internal Monologue, Isolation, Multi, Snow, Stalking, Ten Years Later, Winter, lead up to conflict
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 13:59:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10413765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TychoAzrephet/pseuds/TychoAzrephet
Summary: Set ten years after an unusual genocide run that the human abandoned before mysteriously disappearing, Sans pulls himself out of near comatose lethargy to hunt them down and avenge the death of his brother. Tormented by invasive memories and centuries of resets, Sans' reunion/confrontation with the human isn't looking to shake out very well...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, this is chapter one of an Undertale fan fiction I started writing months ago, a straightforward idea that rapidly spiraled into a fully fledged AU that I've sank an excessive amount of time and energy into crafting. I have the second and third chapters already written and am working on the next installment, if things go as I plan I'll have enough material for dozens of entries, not including the epilogue. I'm posting this to gauge interest in the project and gather any readers curious as to where this story will go, if you've any comments or questions please leave them below. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. :) :3 
> 
> -Tycho

“How does it even snow down here, anyway?”  Sans wondered aloud to himself, staring up into the bank of shadow that hung over the snow capped trees, watching as fleeting snowflakes tumbled downward unto the frosted earth. The forest stretched on for miles before the skeleton, towering pines that creaked and muttered in their perpetual sleep, their dreams of the warm sun harshed by chilling winds. Those same winds swirled and lashed at Sans as he stood rooted in place, sandals sinking steadily into the permafrost, his dull blue jacket still stark against the all encompassing white glare. Silence prevailed over the winter landscape, the scene still and calm yet undercut with tension, as if in anxious anticipation. It was all so...serene, Sans thought wistfully, such a marked contrast to that fateful day. His left eye socket began to glower with a cobalt light as he remembered back, to when the entire order of things had changed, when the human made their mad rush to the castle. 

He lifted his skeletal hands from their pockets, rasping the digits together slowly, the dry grating sound a soft echo across the vast expanse of snow. His skull lowered to stare directly into the treeline, piercing white eyes glaring past ice laden needles, hunting for any sign of movement. Years of searching for the slightest hint of activity had rendered Sans hyper vigilant, countless days spent sleeplessly combing the Underground for...for anything. Anything that would lead him to the human. It’s what drove the skeleton forward, his bones had grown numb to the ache of exhaustion that he had known so well in his youth. Now it was more akin to a dulled exhilaration, a subdued sort of excitement that characterized his decade long hunt. Sans was suddenly struck by a dark thought as he stood taut in his stance, a twisted contemplation that caused the skeleton to let out a harrowing laugh. He clasped his kneecaps tightly and hunched forward, his permanent grin stretched wider as the cackling shook his entire body. The laugh of a man pushed over the edge, forced to climb back up to the top...only to be shoved off again and again.  “Ha..haha...heh...this...this must be what  _ they _ felt like.”  he muttered to himself, wiping a tear from his boney cheek, gripping his coat collar tightly as he came down from his fit.

Sans recalled his days of apathy and laziness, sitting idly by as the human carried out their depraved routine over and over again, even as everyone he cared for was murdered and terrorized. He raised a trembling hand and ran it slowly over his skull, his left eye smoldering as energy leaked out and seared the frigid air, the memories of death and destruction replaying with painful clarity. He had tried...he knew he must’ve tried, at least a few times to stop the human. After awhile, he realized defeating them was an exercise in futility, he could never combat their true power. Their ability to reset time itself, restore the entire world back to its original state, and start all over. For centuries it went on, countless timelines stripped of life and meaning by the human, and Sans was expected to fight his pointless fight unending. Eventually, he simply gave up, succumbing to his failures and hopelessness. It got to the point where he wouldn’t even bother watching it anymore, he’d just lay in bed and listen to the sounds of panic and dismay outside his window, only to be followed by those soft footfalls marching through the snow. It all started to seem like some sort of dream, a surreal nightmare that looped ceaselessly, and Sans knew that he would never wake up. 

A bizarre hissing sound broke Sans’ disturbed reminiscing, a gout of blue flame had started to pour from his left eye and spill across the ground, the thick snow vaporized by the ethereal fire. He shut his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to dispel the searing magic, lashing a hand outwards to his side in order to drive it away. Sans opened his eyes and blinked, regarding the charred patch of earth beneath his feet, nursing a flicker of doubt deep in his mind. Remembering back to those days always seemed to trigger his abilities, regardless of whether or not he wanted to use them. Focusing on the more...unpleasant moments intensified his powers, but there was always a small worry that he might lose his concentration, leaving him trapped in his memories while the magic ran amok. It was part of why he left Snowdin in the first place, that and...monsters didn’t really seem to find Sans’ jokes funny anymore. He chuckled coldly to himself, taking a step forward and crunching over the singed dirt, making his way steadily towards the treeline.  “Their loss.”  he muttered under his breath, his march through the snow barely audible, moving amongst the towering trees along an aimless questing path. Sans had read about forests on the surface, poetic descriptions of birdsong and the chittering of small creatures, but in the Underground the forests were empty. Save for a nomadic band of monsters that had run away from their homes before the massacres...and, of course, his human quarry. 

Sans trudged forward slowly, each seemingly innocuous step actually deliberate, carving a path that would be quite confusing to follow into the drifts of ice. He kept his head lowered slightly, appearing to focus only on the ground directly in front of him, while his eyes darted wildly and erratically. Scanning for the faintest impression that he wasn’t alone, the barest shred of evidence that he was on the trail of his target, the human couldn’t stay on the run without leaving a trace. Sans suspected that if he actually had a heart, it would be racing right now, hunting for a human like this was so much more intense than simply standing in front of the doors to the Ruins. Then again, this method didn’t involve re-calibrating any puzzles, he thought with a brief snicker.  “Heheh...we woulda been much better off just ambushin’ ‘em. Me an’ Paps coulda…coulda………”

Sans stopped walking and stood dead in his tracks, his hands involuntarily falling from his pockets and hanging loosely at his sides, posture slouching as the desire to move was stomped out. He could feel tears welling in his sockets, and after a moment’s resistance, let them fall. Bright blue liquid ran down his jawline and dripped onto the snow, staining the flakes with an unnatural glow, a skeletons only way to express mourning. With a start, Sans realized just how long it had been since he last thought about...him. Papyrus. Just thinking the name flooded his mind with memories and clashing emotions, they were the only pleasant thoughts he had left, yet all they did was remind him of how much he had lost. Paps had been right by his side when they first showed up in Snowdin, completely oblivious to the suspicious and confused looks they were greeted with, overwhelmingly confident that he would win their adoration. Sans would never forget the day they both met Undyne…

____________________________________________________________________________

“ COME ALONG, BROTHER! THE NICE MONSTERS COWERING BEHIND THAT WEIRD TREE COVERED IN TINSEL SAID THIS ‘CAPTAIN UNDYNE’ FELLOW WOULD BE MEETING US HERE!”  Papyrus declared excitedly, beaming with exhilaration as he strutted towards the outskirts of Snowdin, clad in a bright orange shawl that contrasted his brothers dreary blue jacket. His legs and feet were left unadorned, skeletal toes leaving strange staggered tracks in the snow, but Papyrus had taken part of his cloak to wrap around his hands as makeshift gloves. Apparently, it had something to do with making properly shaped snowballs. Sans followed along a few feet behind, hands shoved deep into his pockets, in no particular hurry to match Papyrus’ energy.

“eh...actually bro...they said undyne would be showing up to kick our a-…”  Sans started to say, cutting himself off abruptly just before forming an expletive, Papyrus turned around to look at his brother with a curious expression. 

“WHAT WAS THAT, SANS? KICK OUR…”  he asked, letting the sentence hang as he stared at Sans expectantly, the shorter skeleton chagrined and rubbing the back of his skull. 

“uh...just...kick us outta town, paps...yeah.”  Sans replied weakly, desperately hoping Papyrus wouldn’t inquire further into his choice of language, luckily for him Papyrus was distracted by the prospect his brother had just proposed. 

“KICK US OUT? NONSENSE! I’M SURE ONCE WE EXPLAIN WHO WE ARE AND WHAT WE’RE DOING HERE, UNDYNE AND THE REST OF THE MONSTERS WILL TREAT US AS HONORED GUESTS!”  he said confidently, bounding a few more steps forward before he suddenly stopped, setting his jaw in deep contemplation. He looked back at Sans, appearing confused as he rubbed his left arm slowly, as if trying to remember something vague and murky.  “SPEAKING OF...UMMM...I’VE BEEN MEANING TO ASK...SANS...HAVE YOU HAD ANY LUCK REMEMBERING WHY WE’RE HERE?”  Papyrus asked, looking at his brother sheepishly, while Sans kept his expression deliberately neutral. 

He couldn’t recall much of what happened before they came to Snowdin, only that he and Papyrus had been wandering the wilderness for a long time...after...Sans’ left eye socket flared bright blue as disjointed images flashed through his mind. His fingers started to tremble slightly, the snow beneath his feet agitated by an unseen force, the already frigid wind growing even colder. Papyrus immediately rushed to his brother’s side, placing a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, his grin a strange combination of reassuring and nervous.  “H-HEY! YOU KNOW WHAT? IT...IT ISN’T IMPORTANT WHY WE’RE HERE, OR HOW WE GOT HERE, OR...UHH...ANYWAY, WHAT MATTERS IS THAT WE’RE TOGETHER, RIGHT?”  he asked cheerfully, his grin wide but his eye sockets showing evident concern as he stared at Sans, worry mounting as his brothers eye burned with that strange blue fire. Sans looked up at Papyrus slowly, wanting so badly to share with him the fragments of memories he kept seeing, tell him about the twisted things that haunted what little sleep he could get. As he stared back into his brother’s eyes, seeing the innocence and hopefulness within Papyrus...he just couldn’t bring himself to force that burden on him. Instead, he fought down the nightmarish visions and shrugged off Papyrus’ hand, giving him a sly grin. 

“heh...yeah thats what really matters. after all, im the only one with a  _ funnybone _ between us.”  he said, snapping his fingers in comedic flare, to which Papyrus snorted derisively. 

“PSSSH, HONESTLY SANS. I DO HOPE THOSE BAD JOKES DON’T TURN INTO A REGULA-”  he started to say, only to be interrupted by the sound of massive footfalls crunching through the snow, growing closer and louder with each passing second. Papyrus clapped his hands together excitedly and stood, still facing Sans as he brushed snow away from the cloth that covered his leg bones, adjusting his posture and putting on a more winning smile. He spun around smartly, drawing a breath to deliver his usual over enthusiastic salutation, only to be dumbstruck by the sight that greeted him.

Standing only feet away was a towering figure clad in gleaming iron armor, thick plates of highly polished black metal imposingly stark against the snow covered ground, a massive spear of glowing energy clutched tightly in their left hand. Their helmet was an intimidating and ancient visage, the twinkling light of a single eye visible, a long plume of vibrantly crimson hair flowing cinematically behind them. They surveyed the skeletal siblings before them for a long moment before hefting the magical spear effortlessly, settling into a defensive stance. 

“You there. Skeletons. Identify yourselves and your purpose in Snowdin Town at once, or face the wrath of King Asgore’s Royal Guard.”  barked an aggressive, resonate voice from behind the jagged visor, a voice that carried easily and powerfully across the snow coated path. Sans gave the figure a cursory examination, deciding he could take them without too much hassle if it came down to it, provided their armor wasn’t somehow blaster-proof. Papyrus, on the other hand, was completely transfixed by the staggeringly dangerous opponent before him. He stood admiring them for seconds on end, wowed by the sheer aesthetics of their fierce black armor, blown away by the brilliant sheen of their wickedly pointed spear. The awkward silence built between the three figures for about a minute, to the point where the knight began to feel slightly unnerved by the taller skeletons...adoring gaze. The shorter one seemed thoroughly uninterested in the situation, but despite his apathetic demeanor, the knight suspected him of being more capable than he looked. Unbeknownst to any of the silent participants of this impromptu standoff, Papyrus’ lower jaw had been hanging agape, stretching wider and wider as the skeleton gawked. Just as the knight drew a breath to threaten their potential challengers, there were two loud pops in rapid succession, followed by a clattering as Papyrus’ jaw fell to the ice slickened ground. 

Deafening silence prevailed as all three figures stared down at the fallen component of the taller skeletons skull, until Sans let out an extended snort of laughter he had been desperately trying to suppress, failing miserably as Papyrus shot him a scathing glare. The lanky skeleton knelt down carefully to pick up his jaw, only to scrabble for a grip and have it slide away on a patch of ice. In panic, Papyrus rushed forward to grab at the bone, only to lose his footing and kick it even further away. Sans collapsed to his knees, his composure finally shattering as he let out a howling stream of laughter, gasping for breath as he watched his brother continue to fumble for his elusive jaw. The knight stood in place watching the scene unfold, slowly lowering their spear to the ground, utterly perplexed by what they were witnessing. Papyrus’ misfortunes only continued to magnify as he poured more effort into catching the confoundingly agile length of bone, every desperate grab only extending the farcical scenario as the jaw skittered out of his reach. Meanwhile, Sans was reduced to lying on his back, kicking his feet wildly as his laughter grew more and more intense. This carried on for a solid minute before Papyrus’ frustration reached a fevered pitch, leaping up into the air and diving down towards the deceptively immobile jawbone, crashing into the ice and furiously grappling for it. His momentum carried him further than intended as he slid across the frozen path, a harsh screeching sound filling the air as his bones scraped against the ice, his absurd ordeal finally coming to a close as he crashed bodily into a snowdrift. 

Sans rolled onto his stomach, barely able to breath as hysterical laughter wracked his body, the snow immediately surrounding him spattered blue as tears of pure hilarity poured down his face. After a few moments, he managed to restore some self control, shakily climbing to his feet and trying to stop himself from giggling. Papyrus’ skeletal feet stuck straight into the air, flailing and kicking as he attempted to crawl his way out of the pile of snow, his left hand punching through the frost to hold his jaw aloft triumphantly. Sans snickered and wiped the tears from his cheeks, casting a glance towards the knight, who hadn’t moved during the entire display. She had sheathed her spear and removed her gaunt helmet, revealing herself to be a...fish creature of sorts, her greenish blue scales and flexing gills fairly evident giveaways. A beaten eyepatch was stretched over her left eye, still leaving her with a quite intense stare, fixing her gaze on the snowdrift as Papyrus attempted to reattach his jaw. Sans carefully observed her expression as she watched the skeleton struggle, undaunted by his humiliating experience, a curt grin spreading briefly across her face…

____________________________________________________________________________

Sans blinked a few times as he returned to the present moment, a faded melancholy smile on his face, sighing deeply as he remembered his brothers irrepressible spirit. Anybody else would’ve given up hope of ever impressing someone after that, but Paps was undeterred as always, swearing fealty to the Royal Guard before Undyne was even finished explaining what it was. Sans could never fully understand how Papyrus did it, the way he was never discouraged, no matter how colossally his plans backfired. No matter how awkwardly monsters reacted to him, no matter how many times his ambitions were stunted...never once did his optimism falter. Not once. 

Sans reached into his jacket and slowly pulled out a small figurine, a plastic statuette of a skeletal pirate, a curved sword clutched in its outstretched hand and a tricorn hat fixed on its skull. He stared down at it covetously, unaware of how much time was passing, not noticing as snow began to pile on top of his feet and gather on his coat collar. It was Papyrus’ favorite figure from his collection, the only memento Sans had taken into his self imposed exile...it’s what he would have spread Papyrus’ dust on if he could have. He raised the grinning pirate closer to his face, staring into the empty eye sockets dejectedly, barely registering that his own had been shedding tears uninhibited. “Paps...bro, I...I should...I should’ve been there....I should’ve never...given up. Given up on...my friends...on m-myself.........on you.” Sans whispered quietly to the figurine, his voice strained on the verge of sobbing, the snow beneath him almost fluorescently blue. As he stood there, transfixed by his own grief, his thoughts suddenly shifted away from nostalgic memoriam. Fingers tightening around the plastic shape, causing the casing to creak audibly in his grasp, his flow of tears slowly altering into an excess of magic. Sans clenched his free hand into a fist, his mouth warped into a vengeful grin, both eye sockets aflame as he took a shuddering step forward. “...I swear...I’ll find them, brother...I’ll make them pay for every time they hurt you. _Every. Single. Time.”_ he muttered bitterly, clutching the small figure close to his chest, his footsteps halting and scattered, bright blue flames beginning to spread down his coat. The air was filled with the sound of hissing as snow was flash melted against the wreaths of fire, Sans rested a hand against a nearby tree and leaned against it, his skeletal handprint branding itself into the frozen bark. “They _won’t_ beat me again...no matter how hard they try...”  Sans mumbled to himself, caught between a strange combination of tittering rage and hysteric amusement, digging his fingertips deeper into the charred wood. He shut his eyes tightly, his bones shivering beneath his clothing, magic seeping out from behind his ribcage billowing out unto the frozen ground. Sans clutched the sides of his skull and sank to the ground, trying to shut out the myriad of ghastly images whirling in his mind, drawing a breath to vent his anguish in ragged scream...

*SNAP* 

Sans’ eyes flew open, the magic torrent wrapped around his form immediately extinguished, the skeleton falling completely still and silent as his emotional breakdown was interrupted. He practically stopped breathing for a few seconds as he strained his hearing to the limit, desperate to convince himself that what he had heard was real, that it wasn’t just another hallucination...

*CRACK* 

There it was again, no mistaking it this time, only a few dozen meters away. Sans carefully rose to his feet, his breathing shallow and terse, shuffling towards the direction of the noise as quietly as possible. He sidled up the trunk of a massive tree, leaning incrementally to peer around it, fingers digging into the bark unconsciously. Past his hiding spot was a small clearing in the forest, a field of snow dotted with clusters of puny sapling’s, shriveled diminutive trees robbed of growth by the harshening winter. One had already been stripped of its wispy branches, broken off roughly and quickly, piled together in a small bundle. Sans stared unblinkingly as a lone figure dropped another branch unto the pile, his bleak pupils following their every movement as they approached another sapling and began to tug at an ice coated limb. They strained and struggled as the branch refused to yield easily, after a few moments they huffed in frustration, reaching a hand towards their waist and grabbing hold of something. Sans’ subdued breathing hitched unconsciously as he watched the figure draw a large kitchen knife from their belt, raising it high into the air for an overhead swing, the gleaming blade shimmering under weak reflected pseudo-starlight. They brought it down swiftly onto the base of the branch, carving through the stubborn wood like it had the resistance of paper, the length of kindling falling to the ground with barely a noise. The figure grunted in satisfaction, picking up the branch and turning around to face the treeline, totally unaware of their silent observer. Sans’ eyes changed as the figure turned towards him, piercingly white pupils vanishing instantly, leaving him with only hollow sockets to stare at...the human gathering firewood. 

Sans’ world seemed to narrow incredibly as he continued to gaze emptily at the human, as if he could only perceive their movements and actions, committing every detail to his mind within an instant. That vibrantly striped shirt they had clearly outgrown years ago, that head of unkempt, shoulder length dirty brown hair...that flat, emotionless face. Eyes just as hollow as Sans’, like staring into the night sky itself, a window into true darkness. The skeleton stood against the tree for what seemed like hours to him, unable to move, unable to break his line of sight. Ten years he had spent imagining this moment, plotting out every conceivable way he could confront his target, each newly devised approach grislier than the last. Now...as the human went about their business mere feet away from him...he felt himself standing in front of the door to the Ruins...

____________________________________________________________________________

...leaning against the bark of a tree, his eyelids slowly drooping as he felt a post-morning nap coming on...when the sound of soft footsteps interrupted his dozing. Sans blinked and yawned, looking through the treeline to see a diminutive figure marching through the snow, eye sockets widening as he realized the strange looking interloper could only be a human.  “huh, lookit that. today was the day after all, guess i owe paps a weeks worth of dishes.”  he thought aloud, a mixture of disbelief and suspicion in his voice, pondering to himself how he should approach the situation. On the one hand, he had been assisting Papyrus in his overly convoluted human “hunts” for years, and here was a sterling opportunity for Sans to help him realize his dream. Then again...Undyne wasn’t exactly the type to treat them kindly, and once they were brought to Asgore...it wouldn’t be pretty. As he debated whether to approach or apprehend the human, Sans heard the soft, plaintive voice of the strange woman who lived in the Ruins echo through his thoughts. 

“Sans...I have something to ask of you...if...if a human were to ever walk through this door into the Underground...watch over them, please? Guide them along their journey, keep them safe, I know it is a lot to request but...please, Sans. As a favor for me, for a friend?”

The skeleton let out a resigned sigh, watching as the human slowly walked further down the path.  “why am i such a sucker for older women?”  he asked aloud to himself, shaking his head and taking a whoopie cushion out of his pocket, grinning as he bound it to his palm.  “welp, better go introduce myself, can’t have paps scarin’ em’ outta their skin.”  he said, chuckling at his own joke, leisurely making his way through the snow as the silhouetted shape reached the first gate…

____________________________________________________________________________

Sans snapped back to the present, suppressing the urge to clear his skull by shaking it, keeping himself stock still as to not risk spooking the human. His caution was relatively unnecessary, as his target had remained oblivious to his presence as they continued to hack away at another sapling. Their back was turned to Sans as he stared holes through their head, reaching a hand up pinch the bridge of his absent nose, trying to settle the memories vying for control of his faculties. His promise to Toriel was one of the most vivid, a reluctant promise he had made lifetimes ago, if only he could have appreciated the weight of those words when he’d spoken them. With a start, Sans realized he was stilling holding the pirate figurine, greatly relieved that his magical episode hadn’t melted the plastic. He wrested his gaze away from the human and stared into the skeletal eye sockets of the statue, his nervous and desperate expression slowly fading, replaced by a chillingly wide grin as his eyes sparked back to life. He carefully placed the pirate into a coat pocket, slowly removing a dusty whoopie cushion in its place, wrapping it around his palm tightly and clenching his free hand in preparation. Sans returned his focus to the human mere feet away, the deja vu of his current position not lost on him, his massive grin growing a fraction as he felt the years of his long hunt granting him a familiar exhilaration.  “How could I pass up a chance like this?”  he whispered to himself, focusing his energy and warping instantly across the short distance, materializing within inches of his unsuspecting quarry. He extended his hand outward and, as a bit of an afterthought, snuffed out his pupils to leave his sockets empty. For nostalgia’s sake. 

****“H u m a n...don’t you know...how to greet an old pal? Turn around...and** ** _shake_** **...** ** _my_** **...** ** _hand_** **.”** **


End file.
